100
by Ares Is Awesome
Summary: My Fanfic 100 Challenge, where I attempt to finish the 100 given prompts.
1. 000 List

**This is me attempting to take the Fanfic100 Challenge, which was started on a livejournal community thing, but I'm just using the prompts, even though I'm not part of the thing... I dunno if this will be disaster, what with me being never-updates me, but... well, we'll see. **

* * *

001. Beginnings. 002. Middles. 003. Ends.

004. Insides. 005. Outsides.

006. Hours. 007. Days. 008. Weeks. 009. Months. 010. Years.

011. Red. 012. Orange. 013. Yellow. 014. Green. 015. Blue. 016. Purple. 017. Brown. 018. Black. 019. White. 020. Colorless.

**021. Friends.** 022. Enemies. 023. Lovers. 024. Family. 025. Strangers. 026. Teammates.

027. Parents. 028. Children. 029. Birth. 030. Death.

031. Sunrise. 032. Sunset.

033. Too Much. 034. Not Enough.

035. Sixth Sense. 036. Smell. 037. Sound. 038. Touch. 039. Taste. 040. Sight.

041. Shapes. 042. Triangle. 043. Square. 044. Circle. 045. Moon. 046. Star. 047. Heart. 048. Diamond. 049. Club. 050. Spade.

051. Water. 052. Fire. 053. Earth. 054. Air. 055. Spirit.

056. Breakfast. 057. Lunch. 058. Dinner. **059. Food.** 060. Drink.

061. Winter. 062. Spring. 063. Summer. 064. Fall.

065. Passing.

066. Rain. 067. Snow. 068. Lightening. 069. Thunder. 070. Storm.

071. Broken. 072. Fixed.

073. Light. **074. Dark.** 075. Shade.

076. Who? 077. What? 078. Where? 079. When? 080. Why? 081. How?

082. If. 083. And. 084. He. **085. She.**

086. Choices.

087. Life.

088. School. 089. Work. 090. Home.

091. Birthday. 092. Christmas. 093. Thanksgiving. 094. Independence. 095. New Year.

096. _Writer's Choice. _097. _Writer's Choice. _098. _Writer's Choice. _099. _Writer's Choice. _100. _Writer's Choice. _


	2. 021 Friends

021. Friends

"Sheen, loosen up, would you?" I don't know how Cato managed to put himself in charge, but somehow it happened. I'm dying to be rid of him. Not literally; I'd rather bear him for another few days than lose the Games that I've worked so hard for. And, as I know, it's better to hunt with the pack than be hunted by it.

"I'm loose." I meet his eyes with a glare. He's bigger than me, I'll give him that. Maybe a few inches, twenty or so pounds. If it came to a battle of strength between us, he would have the upper hand. I wouldn't let him win, though. The first night and I'm already concerned with the sever.

Though the mood is light, Cato was right: I'm tense. I'm not comfortable with these strangers. Sure, we're allies until there's no one left to fight. But as soon as the others are all dead and gone, we obviously will have to fight each other. I'm not going to be relaxed while I'm surrounded by my enemies. I've already decided how they'll all die.

Lover Boy will go first, I think. Or whenever we catch up to that District 12 girl, when he realizes that she won't be spared. Sure, he's fairly strong. But he's got no weapon skill. He's no match for me, though, or Cato, or maybe even Clove.

She'll be next, Clove. Her and Cato both. It makes me sick to my stomach every time I see her lean up against Cato or giggle like she's smitten. She's using him, I can see it in her malicious eyes. There may be a certain amount of distrust I have for everyone around the fire—and for the District 3 kid who's setting up our mines in the distance—but if I could give one person the title "Most Likely to Screw me Over," Clove would win the prize.

After that, I figure I'll kill that District 4 girl—something Sauger, though her first name escapes me. I suppose that's for the better. After all, it's easier to kill someone who has no name. Like that District 8 girl from earlier tonight. No name, no attachment. No trouble.

I don't know how I'm going to get rid of Glimmer. We were never close back at home, but even so, it's not the easiest thing it the world to off someone that you've known since starting school. Maybe I'll be so used to murder—yes, _murder;_ that's what this is, even though I don't let myself say it—that by when it's her turn to die, I won't even hesitate. Or maybe someone else will do it. Yes, I think that would be best. It would be a shame to lose popularity at home.

I've decided that District 3—Evan, was it?—will go last. It would be a shame to make it so far just to be taken out by some greater force, and I don't think that he'll be much of a threat. Sure, he can do his mines, but he's going to have a tough time running me through with a spear while he's about half my size. Maybe that's why I like him best: with no strength comes no danger of betrayal. He's the only one in our little club that doesn't make my paranoia go through the roof. But he's not my friend.

No one here is my friend. We are not friends. None of us. We cannot be friends. Friends cannot be expected to kill friends, friends do not carry on with the understanding that they must kill friends. Friends object to the slaughter of friends. We are allies, we are a pack, a team, a troop. We are objects, tools, weapons to each other. We are many things, but we are by no means friends.


	3. 059 Food

059. Food.

In the nation that brought you the Hunger Games, it should be quite apparent that food is never something to take for granted. Some do. Some can afford to. Most can't. It's hard to take something for granted if it's hardly ever there. It's unjust. I have heard that there are entire buildings made of food in the Capitol, where food falls from the sky for anyone to claim.

My friend died of hunger just last year. The Capitol could stop these things easily, of course, as they have rivers of gravy, complete with fish, already cooked and cleaned. They do not. When I was little I could not see why we must starve. They grow fatter and fatter, only to surgically remove their ever-growing waist and start all over. We wager our children's lives for meager portions of grain that are hardly enough to make it month by month.

If I ruled Panem, I would let all eat cake.


	4. 074 Dark

074. Dark.

Pain. My world is pain. I do not know the exact details, exactly what happened, as the entire duration of time from when he cut me up until and through this point—though I know not if it has been days or hours or minutes or seconds—has been a hazy, distorted nothing. All that was in the space since the District 4 boy gashed me was pain.

Mercy. That does not exist. Not in the Hunger Games. And it wasn't had. No, the tribute—and though I do not, will not ever know his name, there is no way possible I could forget his face—couldn't be bothered to take the few extra seconds to finish me off. Rather, I would spend some hours—and it must be hours, as the sun has gone down—before I bled to death, hands pressed against my stomach, too stricken and too disoriented to take a peek, knowing that it would only make the pain worse anyhow.

I'd never liked the forest back in the district, and especially not at night. The trees had all been imposing and sinister, with a threatening air of mystery, looming from beyond the fence. As I grow cold and numb, however, I know that they can do me no further harm. Instead, they guard me as I take my last breath and my world fades to dark.


	5. 085 She

085. She.

She. Do I owe her my life? Perhaps. Yes, I think I do. Indirectly, at least. After all, she—again, indirectly—gave me Rue. Rue, who pointed out the Tracker Jackers. Rue, who showed me an escape from the pack of hounds that had me treed. Rue, who gave me the will to win. Rue, who I loved like my sister.

But this is not the same kind of love I feel for _her._ She, who was my friend during school, when I had no one else. She, who passed on her mockingjay pin to one who would become the symbol of the rebellion it rallied. She who gave it to _me. _She, whose unexpected visit on that day had given me confidence that I could receive from no other. Perhaps I could have won without Madge. Do I owe her my life? Perhaps not. But I would gladly die for her.


End file.
